


if you believe in magic

by abovetheruins



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, The Mysterious Case of the Magical Penis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 08:39:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15748185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: Ryan has this theory – just the one, because it’s the only one that makes sense. Not that it actuallydoesmake sense, because… well, it doesn’t. Shane will say that it doesn’t, anyway. He’ll say that it’s ridiculous, that it’s illogical, that the only reason it exists in the first place is because it strokes Ryan’s ego, and hey, he’s not wrong.





	if you believe in magic

**Author's Note:**

> An idea hit me out of nowhere and I wrote this out in like an hour. I apologize for nothing.
> 
> Written for the 'magical penis' prompt for this month's shyan scavenger hunt. Yeah, now you know what you're in for.

“I’m not loud in bed,” Shane tells him, which would draw Ryan up short any day of the week but especially on a Friday night when he’s giggly and a little drunk and also in the process of wrestling Shane’s clothes off his long lanky body.

“Uh, okay?” he murmurs distractedly, finally finagling Shane’s flannel off of his torso and dragging his palms down the length of Shane’s chest. God, he’s so _warm_.

“I’m just saying,” Shane says, breath running a little faster now. “I don’t want you to get all – “ He taps at Ryan’s brow, as if that should explain things. Ryan just stares at him blankly and Shane sighs. “All up in your head about it. It doesn’t mean I’m not into things, it’s just how I’ve always been.”

“Cool, yeah, that’s fine.” Ryan couldn't care less, honestly. He just wants to get them both naked.

It takes a while, because they’re both pretty buzzed and clumsy as they navigate buttons and zippers and laces, but eventually they manage it, and eventually there’s lube, and slender fingers sinking into Ryan’s ass, and there’s _definitely_ some noises, most of them Ryan’s, but Shane’s not completely silent. He’s certainly not loud, not like Ryan, who grunts and moans and _talks_ , most of his words a mix of pleas and curses and Shane’s name, but if he bites his lip and listens closely, he can hear Shane’s low, pleased hums, the rasp of his breaths falling quick and heavy against Ryan’s ear, and the occasional whimper of his name.

It’s fucking _hot_ , especially when mingled with the creak of the mattress and the slick clap of skin against skin, and Ryan resolves to ask Shane why the fuck he ever thought anyone would find issue with his volume in the bedroom, but later, when he’s not busy getting pounded into the mattress.

 

The thing is – the thing _is_ \- Shane’s kind of a liar.

Ryan learns this the first time Shane presses the lube into his hand and tells him, “You can – if you want to – “

“Wait, really?” There’s no reason to be surprised, Ryan knows, and his body’s definitely on board with this plan if Shane is. They’ve only been together – _together_ together – for a few weeks, after all, and they’re still learning what makes the other tick in bed.

Shane grins up at him, and maybe it should be weird, seeing such a familiar expression while he’s sprawled out on Ryan’s bed instead of on the other side of the table in Ghoul HQ or beside him in the office, but it’s not. It’s natural, and _easy_ , and really fucking awesome, besides. “You betcha, baby!” Shane chirps, spreading his arms and wiggling his hips, which would look ridiculous on the best of days but looks downright _hilarious_ when he’s nude. “C’mere and plant your flag in Shanesburg!”

Ryan breaks out into giggles, dropping his forehead to Shane’s chest and groaning around his laughter. “You’re an idiot,” he says, way too fondly to sound even remotely insulting. It doesn’t help that he presses a kiss to Shane’s sternum afterward, and another to his left nipple, followed by a longer, softer press of his lips to the right of Shane’s bellybutton.

Shane shivers beneath him, and Ryan tongues gently at the line of goosebumps breaking out along his skin. By this point he’s used to Shane’s noises, low and breathy hums with the occasional word thrown in, usually Ryan’s name or a muttered curse that never rises above the volume of his speaking voice. Ryan’s determined to coax out as many of them as he can, because he’s a little obsessed with them if he's being perfectly honest, to the point where he’ll purposely stifle his own sounds just so he can hear Shane better.

By the time he’s three fingers deep in Shane’s ass Ryan’s so hard it _hurts_ , amazed that Shane’s able to keep as quiet as he is when Ryan’s practically howling when he’s in the same position, thighs splayed and hole wet and gaping, skin slick with a sheen of sweat and eyes clenched shut as pleasure mounts in his belly.

Ryan’s loud even when he’s not the one taking it, unable to stem the flow of praise and admiration that drips from his lips, his words gritty with want and flavored with the sharp bite of arousal. “So good, Shane,” he growls, curling his fingers and rubbing against that spot inside that makes Shane’s belly and thighs go taut with tension. “So fucking good, so hot inside, so warm and wet, can’t wait to be in you, can’t wait to feel you around my cock, to feel you cum – “

“ _Fuck, Ry_.” It’s a whispered curse, and Ryan’s flooded with such an intense wave of desire at the sound of it that he can’t help but moan, leaning down to swipe his tongue along the head of Shane’s cock and relishing in the clench of Shane’s muscles around his fingers.

The moments between him easing his fingers free and coating his length in slick pass in a fevered blur. He’s practically fucking shaking, so eager to be buried inside Shane, and Shane’s not helping, making those tiny, bitten-off noises that always get Ryan going, his long legs splayed and his eyes half-closed and dark with arousal.

Ryan knows he’s not gonna be able to muffle his own noises this time; he knows it the second his cockhead breaches Shane’s body and he starts sinking into wet, grasping heat. He moans, loud and unrestrained, because holy fuck, Shane feels _amazing_ , so snug and hot around Ryan's dick, but the thing is – the thing is –

Shane moans, too. He doesn’t whimper, he doesn’t whisper, he doesn’t mutter – he _moans_ , long and hoarse and _loud_ , spilling into the darkness of Ryan’s bedroom, filling Ryan's ears and going straight to Ryan’s cock.

Shane doesn’t even notice, or if he does he doesn’t seem to fucking care, because he’s wrapping his legs around Ryan's waist and arching his back to take more of him, and Ryan’s sinking so _deep_ , and by the time he bottoms out there’s no room for thought at all. It was probably just a fluke anyway.

But it doesn’t stop. _Shane_ doesn’t stop. Each snap of Ryan’s hips seems to draw out more and more noises, each climbing in volume until Ryan can’t even hear himself anymore. Moans and scattered curses and desperate cries all come pouring out of Shane’s throat like a fountain spilling water, his head tossed back and his fingers wrapped in fistfuls of Ryan’s sheets. Ryan’s never heard anything like it, never heard _Shane_ like this, not out on investigations, not when they’re partying with their friends and roaring drunk, and definitely not in bed.

It’s surprising, to say the least. Surprising and ridiculously hot, because Shane is so gone for it, gone for Ryan and Ryan’s dick pounding into him and Ryan’s hands clenched around his hips and Ryan’s mouth sucking bruises into his collarbone, and it’s driving Ryan wild.

“Gonna cum,” Shane moans, hips pumping in time with Ryan’s thrusts, scrabbling for his shoulders and then tossing his arms around Ryan’s neck with a broken cry. “Gonna make me cum, Ryan, holy fuck, there, there, right there, fuu _uuck_ – ! “

Ryan’s orgasm hits him like a fucking freight train, his muscles drawing tight and teeth clenching down hard around a desperate moan. He can’t even claim it was Shane’s own orgasm that caused it, though the clench of muscles squeezing around his cock would certainly have done the trick. But it was Shane’s words, that _voice_ , loud and ragged and spilling molten against Ryan’s ear, that had driven him over the edge.

It isn’t until later as they’re catching their breath, slick with sweat and drying cum, that Ryan manages to speak, that he even has the _brainpower_ to speak.

“What,” he starts, and then has to swallow, wet his throat, and try again. “What was _that_?”

Judging by the way Shane stills next to him, he knows exactly what Ryan’s referring to. “I… honestly don’t know?” he says, and he actually sounds a little gobsmacked. Ryan would savor the moment – it’s not like he gets to see this side of Shane that often – but he kind of wants to gloat, so.

“You fucking liar,” he crows, turning onto his side and grinning as Shane turns his head to look at him. His hair’s fucked twelve ways to Sunday and his cheeks are ruddy, not to mention the slew of rather impressive looking love bites emblazoned across his chest and collarbones. He looks well and truly fucked, and damn if it isn't a good look on him. “Mr. “I’m not loud in bed,” my ass! You were practically screaming for it by the end!”

He kind of expects Shane to smack him, or maybe come up with some bullshit excuse as to why he’d lied about something so dumb, but instead he gets a look of pure confusion, Shane’s brows drawn down over his eyes like they usually are when he’s facing a tough editing decision and debating on what direction to take.

“That’s never happened before,” he says eventually, his words clipped and measured like he’s not sure how much he should share. His cheeks are still red, and Ryan has a feeling it’s not something they can blame on sex anymore. He doesn’t know why that thought makes him feel warm, too. “I wasn’t lying about – this,” Shane continues, gesturing to them, the bed, and their current states.

“Oh.” What else can Ryan say? Sorry you’re a closet screamer? What the fuck. But something about Shane’s expression, how unsure he looks, makes Ryan open his mouth again and add, “It’s not a bad thing, Shane. It was hot.”

Shane snorts, turning onto his side to face Ryan so that they’re mirroring each other. “You think _sneakers_ are hot.”

Ryan’s mouth drops open. “Just because I like how they look doesn’t mean – “ he starts, only to be cut off by Shane’s wheezing laughter, lanky body curling up as he giggles into the sheets. Ryan rolls his eyes and grouses, “You’re such a dick, Shane,” but it’s too hard to hold onto a shred of annoyance when Shane's face is all open and bright with mirth, so he doesn’t even try.

 

It doesn’t happen every time they fall into bed together, no matter how… strenuous things become. Shane fucks him on each of their couches, up against walls in nondescript hotels, even once in a musty, ghoul-infested farmhouse, and every time, his noise level remains about the same, even as Ryan shakes and sobs and shouts underneath him. Or on top of him. Whatever.

Point is, it doesn’t happen every time, but it _does_ happen. It happens when Ryan bends Shane over the desk on the Unsolved set after a long, grueling day of too much editing and not enough sleep. It happens when Ryan’s sprawled across Shane’s gigantic bed and guiding Shane down onto his cock, hands locked around his hips. It happens when Ryan hauls Shane up against the shower wall and sinks into him, both of them wet and scratched up from an accident on location that had left them both a little rattled. Each time Shane groans, and grunts, and _screams_ , and each time Ryan grows more convinced than ever that he could cum purely from the sound of Shane’s voice alone, spilling loud and sex-hoarse from his throat and filling Ryan's belly with liquid heat.

It doesn’t happen when Ryan sinks to his knees and draws Shane into his mouth, though. It doesn’t happen when he works Shane open with his tongue, doesn’t happen when he laves marks into Shane’s neck or belly or thighs. It only happens when Shane’s taking him in, body parting around Ryan’s cock, and, well – 

Ryan has this theory – just the one, because it’s the only one that makes sense. Not that it actually _does_ make sense, because… well, it doesn’t. Shane will say that it doesn’t, anyway. He’ll say that it’s ridiculous, that it’s illogical, that the only reason it exists in the first place is because it strokes Ryan’s ego, and hey, he’s not wrong.

That doesn’t stop Ryan from suggesting it, though.

“You… what?” Shane asks him slowly, carefully, as if he’s not sure whether Ryan’s pulling his leg or not.

They’re in Shane’s bed, Ryan having stayed over after their weekly movie night, and Ryan had grown bored pretty quickly of scrolling through his phone. He’d figured now would be as good a time as any to discuss his little theory.

“I said ‘I think I have a magical penis.’” It doesn’t sound any less ridiculous the second time he says it, and Ryan suppresses a laugh both at the words and at the look on Shane’s face. If he were holding anything other than his phone, Ryan knows he would have tossed it at him by now.

“Ryan, I love you, I do, and believe me when I say that I’m asking this with all the affection in the world, but what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Ryan breaks, a soft wheeze falling from his lips. Shane shakes his head like he can’t believe he puts up with this shit, and that only makes Ryan laugh harder.

“Okay, big guy,” he says around his giggles. “You tell me then. Tell me why you’re quiet as a mouse every time we’re in bed _except_ for when you take my cock.”

“ _Take my cock_ ,” Shane breathes, shaking his head disdainfully, but there’s no mistaking the darker tinge to his cheeks, which is visible even in the muted light of the bedside lamps. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ryan.”

“Bullshit,” Ryan returns, smug. “You’ve got a pattern, baby. You’re quiet when you fuck _me_ , you’re quiet when I give you head or eat you out or whatever, but you’re _loud_ when you’ve got my dick in you. Them’s the facts, champ.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Shane bites back, though it’s without heat. He’s not even really annoyed, he’s just _embarrassed_ , and it’s surprisingly cute. “This whole conversation is ridiculous. And the theory that you have – and I quote, much as it pains me – “ a magical penis” is so goddamn ridiculous that I’m tempted to kick you out of bed so you and your little not-magical friend can rough it out on the couch.”

“I’m just saying,” Ryan speaks around remnants of his laughter, “that, considering the evidence at hand, it’s a viable explanation.”

“It’s really not,” Shane argues. “Besides, it’s not _every_ time. You’re exaggerating.”

“Oh, baby,” Ryan drawls, inwardly grinning as Shane’s no-nonsense look shifts into something a little more unsure. “I’m really not. But hey, you’re a scientific method kind of guy, I can respect that, so why don’t we just – test it out?”

Shane sputters. “Test it out? How?”

Ryan just stares. Shane rolls his eyes. “Okay, I know _how_ , but what’s the limit here? Are we just gonna fuck a dozen times and draw from that?”

“We can,” Ryan nods. “We can record it, too. The audio, at least. So you can hear for yourself how… mouthy you get.”

“So says you,” Shane mutters, and Ryan grins.

“So says me.”

 

A week later, after a dozen rounds of spectacular fucking and the deepest sleep Ryan’s had in years, he presents his evidence to Shane, gathered and meticulously labeled, on a thumbdrive with _Top Secret_ scribbled across the top.

“Cute,” Shane scoffs, and pops it into his laptop.

Two hours later they’re both shifting restlessly on the couch, Ryan tucked against Shane’s side and Shane’s hand buried in his hair, both of them sporting some pretty obvious boners that might have been funny in any situation other than this one. Hearing himself in the throes of passion is new enough. Hearing Shane, hearing the both of them together, is… a lot. And jesus, Ryan is _loud_. He’d known it anyway, but there’s nothing like hearing his own voice begging and moaning and crying out in HD to really drive the point home.

“For fuck’s sake, Ryan,” Shane rasps, pushing his lips against Ryan’s temple. They’re both audible on this particular recording, and Ryan remembers the scene perfectly: Shane’s knees hooked over his shoulders as Ryan fucked him into the mattress, Shane’s hands gripping the headboard and his mouth dropped open in a breathless wail as he spilled against his stomach.

“Told you,” Ryan breathes, too turned on to gloat. He cups Shane’s stubbly jaw and kisses him, humming as Shane’s tongue pushes through the seam of his lips to tangle with his own. In the background Ryan can hear his own garbled moan as he comes, followed by his and Shane’s ragged breaths and the slick sound of their lips meeting as they kiss. Ryan reaches over to shut the lid on the laptop as the audio finishes, and then eases back to look up into Shane’s sleepy, dark eyes. “How d’you feel about my theory now, big guy?” he asks, pushing his hand through the gaps in Shane’s flannel and pressing his palm against the warm skin at the base of his throat.

“I think we need to test it out some more,” Shane murmurs, pushing him back until Ryan’s stretched out along the couch, and well, who is Ryan to say no to that?


End file.
